


Schoolroom at the Inn

by Vera_dAuriac



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Multi, Sex with Friends, Vaginal Fingering, education kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_dAuriac/pseuds/Vera_dAuriac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only one room at the inn. Whatever will they do?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schoolroom at the Inn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveel_who](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveel_who/gifts).



> Takes place at some point post Season 2 during the war.
> 
> I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
> 
> Happy birthday, loveel_who! I don't even remember how we came up with this grouping, I only know it's your fault I wrote it. ;) You're an inspiration to me and the entire fandom. *wet sloppy smooch*

by Vera d'Auriac

The innkeeper could not have been more gracious and polite, Aramis thought. Nor could he have been more oblivious. Aramis adored the man for all of these qualities, for it made his job decidedly easier. It also gave him a delightfully filthy idea, and he had not had one of those for entirely too long a time. 

“Apologies again for having just the one room,” the innkeeper said for the dozenth time as he threw another log on the already blazing fire. “The missus will have it ready in just a minute.” 

“No need to apologize,” Aramis said, holding up a gracious hand. “We are all friends, and this has been a long journey. We do not mind sharing.” 

And it was true. The war had made for more than one interesting journey with unexpected bedfellows. A month ago, he had somehow found himself responsible for seeing to Queen Anne’s safety as she traveled from palace to palace, never staying anywhere long enough that her enemies could find her. Aramis had fought a valiant battle with himself for the first night they spent in close proximity, and his better nature had prevailed. The second night on the road from Orleans to Bourges, Anne started a different kind of fight with him, and his better nature had never been happier to lose. He hadn’t forgotten how open and artless she was in bed, but he had lost just how overpowering he found that in her. Not making love to her that night would have been as impossible as it had been all those years ago at the convent. 

And they had been making love every night since, or afternoon or morning, that they could manage. This current trip with just Constance and d’Artagnan was perfect. He and Anne didn’t have to hide their love from their friends, and Aramis thought Constance and d’Artagnan might never get over being newlyweds, so they were as eager to separate at the end of the day. For Anne’s safety so that he would always be with her and to conceal her identity, they were posing as married couples, and it was bliss for him. 

But this specific inn had only the one room available. Apparently, a roving band of criminals had robbed and vandalized the establishment two days before, and the other rooms were not in fit condition. Naturally, posing as commoners, they would be expected to have lived a life in which a lack of privacy was not uncommon. But more than not showing any reluctance to share, Aramis briefly feared Anne would give away something of her true nature by trying to compensate the poor innkeeper for his loss. Aramis had already decided they could hide some extra money for the man to find once they were well on the road. 

And of course, sharing one room might have unexpected benefits if Aramis could get them all to agree to his plan. 

“It’s all ready,” said the stooped innkeeper’s wife as she bustled into the common room. “Is there anything else we can get you?” 

“No,” Aramis said with his broadest smile. “In fact, we have had a particularly wearisome journey. I’m quite sure the most helpful thing you can do for us is to forget we exist for the night.” 

“We’ve had a pretty tiring couple of days ourselves,” the innkeeper said, resting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I see a pleasant night of sleep all around.” 

“Indeed.” Aramis grinned even wider and offered an arm to Anne. “Dear. Ready?” 

Anne rose and took his arm. “We are so grateful that you have troubled yourselves to make even the one room ready for us when you have been through such a trying time. Thank you.” 

“Oh, ma’am, it’s really no trouble,” the innkeeper said. “It’s what we do after all, isn’t it?” 

“Nonetheless,” said d’Artagnan, Constance on his arm, the two of the joining Aramis and Anne at the foot of the stairs leading up to their room, “we appreciate it.” 

“We truly do,” added Constance. 

“Our pleasure,” said the wife. “Perhaps I’ll stay in here for the night. In case you need something. Our room is way in the back, and you’re upstairs in the front. You could yell all night needing something, and I’d never hear it.” 

“I absolutely insist you do no such thing,” said Aramis. “The idea of you uncomfortable down here instead of tucked comfortably in your own bed would ruin my night.” He added his most charming smile in order to make his argument more persuasive. 

“If you insist, sir,” the wife said with a curtsy. She handed him a lamp. “You remember the way?” 

“I do, indeed.” 

“Then we will wish you goodnight,” she said, taking her husband’s arm and heading down the hallway to the rear of the inn. 

“Very well, then,” said Aramis. “Shall we?” 

Everyone nodded, and he led the way up the stairs with the lamp to the spacious room at the front of the house overlooking the street. The innkeeper had explained that it was the first room they began repairing since it had the largest bed, and the bed was "still intact, praise God.” And nothing could have suited Aramis’s needs better. Certainly not two smaller rooms. 

Pushed up along the wall with the door, the bed was truly large, taking up most of the room, save for small tables on either side at the head, and a four foot wide strip at the bottom where their luggage was piled at one corner with a small stove for heat at the other. From here at the door, there was perhaps four more feet of space between bed and wall that led to a window under which their luggage was stacked. A large ewer and basin were waiting for them on the table at the head of the bed next to the door. In other words, not much space to walk about, but there was also little reason to be up, especially with a bed that really would sleep four with only a little cuddling. Who would ever needed to be out of the bed? 

D’Artagnan, it seemed, thought he needed to be. He pulled a blanket off the bed, leaving at least two more behind. “Aramis, I think you and I can set up our bedrolls on the floor. It’s narrow, but we’ve managed worse.” The poor boy frowned and looked not at Aramis, but Constance, as he said this. 

Aramis set the lamp down on the table next to the basin and closed the door. He was quite pleased to find a working lock on the door and flipped it. He slid his arm around Anne’s waist and pulled her close. “I actually have a far better idea, if anyone is disposed to hear it.” 

“By all means,” Constance said. “He won’t admit it, but he’s grumpy all day if he wakes up with a stiff back.” 

Aramis brushed his lips along the side and back of Anne’s neck, but he looked at Constance while he did it. Her lips parted, and she looked a bit breathless, and he thought he might, in fact, have an ally for his scheme. “I think we could all share the bed.” 

“But her majesty—” d’Artagnan began. But when Aramis kissed her majesty passionately on the mouth, d’Artagnan stopped talking. 

Anne hesitated for only a moment before returning the kiss, thrusting her tongue in his mouth and wrapping her delicate arms around his waist. He hoped this meant he had yet another person in his camp, and couldn’t help a nibble on her lower lip—something she loved—in an attempt to secure her favor. Finally, he pulled away and looked back at Constance and d’Artagnan. “Have you ever wondered what it might be like to…share a bed with your friends?” 

“I have,” Constance said. She took a halting step toward Aramis, stopped completely, then rushed the last few steps up to him so that her body was pressed against his left side while he continued to hold Anne in his right arm. She hesitated again, so Aramis reached up and brushed his thumb along her cheek to let her know it was okay. That was all it took. She stood up on her toes and pushed her mouth against Aramis’s. 

He met her forceful kiss with his tongue and his hand buried in her hair. When he heard d’Artagnan gasp, he almost pulled away—he would never do anything to upset his brother—but Constance pushed in harder for a moment before she chose to end the kiss. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to release her thick curls. 

She glanced over her shoulder at her husband and smiled. “Don’t say you haven’t wondered, because I’ll know it’s a lie.” 

D’Artagnan blushed furiously, and Aramis could only imagine the conversation, wondering if he could get them to repeat it. But before he could say anything, Constance had moved away from Aramis and closer to Anne. After a deep breath, Constance placed a hand on Anne’s cheek, much as Aramis had just done to her. “I’ve wondered so much.” And without waiting for anything else, Constance kissed Anne. It began slowly, allowing Anne an opportunity to pull back she hadn’t afforded Aramis, but Anne did not pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Constance’s waist and held her tight. Constance opened her own mouth and forced Anne’s open with her tongue, initiating one of the slowest, filthiest kisses Aramis had ever witnessed. 

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Aramis asked d’Artagnan, walking over to his side, but still watching the ladies. “And I want this to be beautiful for everyone. Especially you.” 

“Especially me?” d’Artagnan gasped, and Aramis couldn’t help looking at him now. His expression was so lost and overwhelmed—eyes wide, lips parted and panting. D’Artagnan’s lips. God help him, but Aramis had always loved d’Artagnan’s lips. 

“You are my brother,” Aramis whispered. “I will always want the best for you.” Aramis ran his fingers into d’Artagnan’s shiny black hair and pulled him close. “Let me make tonight perfect for you.” 

And Aramis kissed him, pressed his own lips against those he had desired for so long. D’Artagnan never tried to pull away, and there was nothing halting, but he went slowly, deliberately, and Aramis allowed him to control the speed and force and wetness. And gradually, d’Artagnan deepened every aspect, his breath coming in frantic pants in Aramis’s mouth. Aramis wanted to allow d’Artagnan to continue controlling the kiss, but d’Artagnan’s increasing eagerness made it impossible for Aramis to hold back and not pull this beauty into his arms. D’Artagnan groped at his back, trying to gain purchase on something, while he planted one hand on the nape of d’Artagnan’s neck and the other in the small of his back. When d’Artagnan’s stiffening cock brushed Aramis’s hip, d’Artagnan gasped, somehow waking Aramis up and reminding him that they were not alone, and however much he desired d’Artagnan, he was a gentleman, and he wanted to please the ladies as much as he wanted anything in this world. 

Aramis pulled his mouth away from d’Artagnan, but pushed their foreheads together. “Oh, I have wanted to do that for a very long time. But we mustn’t forget ourselves. The ladies, surely, desire our attention.” 

“You had our attention just fine,” Constance said. “Really, you should feel free to do as much of that as you want.” 

“I have to agree,” Anne smiled. “It was quite the pleasant sight. I can’t imagine anything lovelier.” 

Aramis walked back to Anne and stroked her neck. “That is because you cannot see yourself sprawled out beneath me.” He merely pecked her lips with his before smiling, first at her, and then at the other two. “I think you both deserve the pleasure of seeing Anne sprawled out naked in bed. In fact,” and here he stepped up to Constance and yanked first one string and then another on her bodice, “I think the first thing we need to do is all of us take off our clothes.” 

“I am in full agreement,” said Constance, pulling free the knot at his throat holding his cloak on. 

Aramis clasped Constance’s hand, kissed it, his tongue poking through his lips to dampen her palm. “Why don’t you undress Anne? I want to talk to your husband.” 

Constance grinned with that wicked twinkle in her eye Aramis found so utterly charming. “Will you kiss him again first?” 

Aramis leaned in and kissed her, his tongue more than just poking through his lips now. “I will do anything you ask me tonight.” 

“I will hold you to that.” 

“I would be extremely disappointed if you did not.” 

And so Aramis returned to an utterly anxious d’Artagnan who pulled them together so fiercely it took Aramis’s breath away. D’Artagnan pushed his mouth against Aramis so hard it hurt, but Aramis only pushed back with equal force, his hands searching d’Artagnan’s body as eagerly as his tongue mapped d’Artagnan’s mouth. But eventually he had to break away, had to remind himself why he had wanted the ladies to undress each other, and why he had wanted to talk to d’Artagnan. He was such a gorgeous young man, and bright and passionate, but if he made love the way he soldiered, then much like Athos had been forced to focus d’Artagnan’s sword work, Aramis should guide d’Artagnan in bed. Athos had done his work for the sake of France. Aramis would perform his for the sake of Constance. The woman had suffered through one unsatisfying marriage, and a woman of her passions and adventurous spirit deserved the very best the second time around. 

Aramis ended the kiss and then turned d’Artagnan to look at the ladies. Slipping behind him, Aramis pushed himself against d’Artagnan and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Whispering, he said into d’Artagnan’s ear, “Watch how Constance takes Anne’s clothes off. See how delicate she is? The care she takes with every tie? The way she gently brushes Anne’s body when she gets the chance?” 

“Yes,” d’Artagnan replied breathlessly. 

“That’s how you should undress Constance. I know sometimes you want her so badly you feel as though you have to rip her clothes off, but don’t. If the urge truly is that strong, just lift her skirts and have your way with her. That can, in fact, be glorious from time to time. But this is better. She will like it better. And she’ll have less to sew.” 

D’Artagnan groaned, surely in part because of Aramis’s words, but while he had been talking, he had been undressing d’Artagnan as well. His shirt was loose at the throat and pulled from his pants. What had caused the groan, however, was most likely the fact Aramis had brushed d’Artagnan’s very erect cock as he finished unbuttoning and unlacing his pants and underclothes. With a smooth push, Aramis had them over d’Artagnan’s hips on their way to the floor. 

Anne, now in only her shift, was unlacing Constance, but she paused in her work when she caught sight of d’Artagnan. “Oh, heavens. You weren’t exaggerating, Constance.” 

D’Artagnan immediately dropped his head in embarrassment. Aramis kissed him under the ear and moved around to the front of d’Artagnan, ostensibly to remove his boots, but also to shield him for a moment while he got his bearings again. Once Aramis had his boots off, he finished removing d’Artagnan’s pants and underclothes before standing up straight again and kissing d’Artagnan softly on the mouth. “You’re beautiful. Let Anne see how beautiful you are with no shame and no embarrassment.” Aramis kissed d’Artagnan again, and he could hear the “Thank you” in the tremble of d’Artagnan’s lips. 

Realizing he was rather behind—d’Artagnan wore only his shirt and the ladies were now removing even their shifts—Aramis kicked off his boots and began removing his own clothes. D’Artagnan grabbed his hands at his belt and looked imploringly into his eyes. “Would you like me to do this for you?” 

“If you would like to, yes. And feel free to be as quick and rough as you want. Undressing a man is decidedly less interesting.” 

“I beg to differ,” Anne said, naked now only a few feet away. The sight of her always made Aramis’s breath catch. D’Artagnan had finished with Aramis’s belt and pants by the time Anne reached them and gently pushed d’Artagnan away. “Actually, I differ that you have to be entirely undressed at all. Of course, these must go,” she said, yanking hard at Aramis’s pants. His underclothes still needed unlacing, but her deft fingers quickly saw to them and they joined his pants puddled at his ankles. “But your shirt,” she purred as she slipped her hand through the open neck. “I rather enjoy exploring you this way.” 

“I sympathize with that urge,” Constance said, now completing the group, all four of them huddled together, the ladies naked, the men only in their loosened shirts. “However,” and here she ripped d’Artagnan’s shirt off, “when there is such a sight to behold….” 

“Oh, Constance, he’s lovely,” said Anne. 

“And I bet this one is, too,” Constance said, pressing herself against Aramis. And with her fingers slipping under the hem to take a good grip, she stripped him naked, as well. 

“Good God, Aramis. You’re gorgeous,” said d’Artagnan. 

Aramis smiled, not having expected d’Artagnan to be the one to say that quite so bluntly, but loving the fact he had. 

Constance kissed Aramis’s chest. “What next?” 

Aramis put his fingers under her chin to tilt her face up so he could kiss her. “What would you like next? More lessons?” 

“Yes, Aramis!” Anne said, with giddy excitement before Constance could answer. She pushed her naked body against his side. “Teach them,” here she paused and looked down and blushed, “what you do.” She stopped again and blinked her eyes meaningfully at her waist. No. A bit lower than her waist, he now realized. 

He pulled Anne closer. “You want me to show them the joy I give you with my mouth between your thighs?” He kissed her deep and wet, but swiftly. 

“Yes, show us that,” Constance jumped in. 

Anne grinned. “I think it would be useful for them.” 

“Wait a minute,” d’Artagnan said. At which point, Aramis released the ladies and threw his arm around a flustered d’Artagnan’s shoulders. 

“D’Artagnan, you and I are gentlemen. This prevents us from discussing the ladies with whom we spend our time, because we wish to protect their delicacy and honor. They, however, feel no such restriction about discussing us.” 

The ladies giggled, but d’Artagnan dropped his head and would meet no one’s eye. Still laughing, Constance came over and placed her hands on d’Artagnan’s cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “I love you more than life itself. You have made me the happiest woman in France. There’s no shame in Aramis showing you how to make me even happier.” 

“But you told someone else I was…lacking.” 

Constance laughed again, but when d’Artagnan tried to pull his face away, she gripped him tighter. “There was nothing malicious about it. I would never say anything like that about you to anyone. Anne simply told me what Aramis had done to her, and I said you hadn’t done that specifically for me, before I went on to list a few dozen other ways you have pleased me.” 

D’Artagnan, under Constance’s reason and touch, seemed to be coming around. “But you would like me to please you in this specific way?” 

“I’d like to try! Wouldn’t you? Don’t you want to find every way in the world to make each other happy?” 

D’Artagnan kissed her, and it looked both gentle and insistent to Aramis. A beautiful kiss if he had ever seen one. And then he whispered in Anne’s ear, “Onto the bed with you. You shall be teacher’s assistant.” 

Aramis made certain Anne was comfortably situated in the middle of the bed. He took all of the available pillows and plumped them up behind her, gently resting her head upon them. And even though he had a specific task, he stretched out beside her for a moment and kissed her, slow and wet, their tongues wrestling, first in her mouth, then in between, before settling in his. With a contented groan, he left her mouth and slid down her slender body. He planted many kisses along the way—her neck, the side of her left breast, her waist, her hip. Then he climbed between her legs and sucked a wet kiss on her stomach, just below her belly button. 

“If you two have finished kissing and making up,” he said, “I am about to begin, and this really is the sort of thing you ought to learn from the beginning.” He brushed his lips against the hair above her opening, making her wiggle in anticipation. D’Artagnan and Constance now seemed just as eager as well, bounding onto the bed on his right, wrapped in each other, but eagerly watching him poised between Anne's legs. 

“Now,” Aramis began, adopting the tone of a tutor, but the nice tutor you liked better than the others, “I prefer to begin by kissing around the area, saving the ultimate goal for last.” He demonstrated, kissing just above her hair line, licking a bit for good measure, because he knew how much Anne specifically enjoyed having her stomach licked. Then he planted a kiss on her right groin and then lower on the inside of her thigh. She shifted, quite involuntarily he knew from experience with her, and he moved onto the inside of her left thigh, which she had propped up and offered to him. 

When he lightly brushed his lips over these special lips of hers, she moaned, and Aramis took a moment to peer up at her, head thrown back, eyes closed, ecstatic already. “Are you two watching her?” 

At the same moment, Constance breathlessly answered, “Yes,” while d’Artagnan said, “No.” 

Aramis smiled and kissed Anne’s lips. “I know you want to see what I’m doing, d’Artagnan, so you can copy it, but always watch the woman. Watch how she reacts—what she reacts to. Women are more variable in their sexual desires than men. I’ve been with, well, many women, and none of them have been pleased quite the same way. For instance,” and here he stopped talking so he could run his tongue from the bottom of Anne’s opening to its top, “I have yet to meet a woman who dislikes being licked from one end to the other. But I admit, it is one of my few purely selfish indulgences in bed.” He did it once more, and Anne wriggled her hips, hoping to find his mouth, but he pulled back to speak. 

“The taste of the woman you love….” He stopped to lick directly into her. “It’s the most exquisite taste in the world, d’Artagnan. Savor it.” Once more, he licked her from bottom to top, not pressing too hard, just getting a taste for himself and teasing her. 

“Some women,” Aramis continued, “want to be more than just licked—they want sucked.” 

Constance gasped, and Aramis looked at her from the corner of his eye while he had one of Anne’s lips trapped between his own. D’Artagnan was wrapped around her body from behind, and his left hand had hold of her corresponding breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers. Aramis smiled before licking Anne with as much of his tongue as he could get on her. 

However, Aramis did pause long enough to say, “And I believe Constance may be one of those women.” He returned immediately to licking Anne with renewed vigor and speed. 

“But her…. I don’t know the proper term,” said Constance, her hips unthinkingly grinding back into her husband’s cock. “When do you lick it?” 

“Clitoris is the proper term,” Aramis answered, and he planted a kiss on the inside of Anne’s left thigh. “That I lick when I reach the point where I have excited her and nothing else will do.” He sucked hard now on Anne’s thigh, knowing it would leave a mark, and knowing she would love it. And because this now got her terribly close—the entire encounter since they entered the room making them all ready—he flicked the tip of his tongue over her clit. She whimpered. He grinned. 

“Vary your motion,” he advised, before beginning to do just that. Anne was responding so beautifully, and he had no desire to stop, but he did not wish to neglect Constance and d’Artagnan. Not only had he promised to teach them, he had promised them a glorious night, and he never forgot his duty to his partners, no matter how many he had. 

“Don’t go too fast,” he advised. “You need to pay attention to what is making her happy, and if you go too quickly, you won’t know what it was she found pleasant.” He licked Anne’s clit several more times, trying hard and light touches, directly on and just below, to see which would please her this night, since it tended to change. 

Anne’s moans and pushing against his face told him she was extremely close. Perhaps it was time for d’Artagnan to get some practical experience. A bit reluctantly, Aramis stopped moving his tongue across Anne’s clit, quickly kissed her thigh, and said to d’Artagnan, “Would you like to give it a try? Assuming the lady is willing?” 

Anne whimpered, but she also understood what had been promised for the night and smiled. “Of course, d’Artagnan. I would be honored.” She held out her hand, and he climbed awkwardly over Constance. In the meanwhile, Aramis slipped to Anne’s other side to make room for d’Artagnan between Anne’s legs. 

“Remember to listen to her,” Aramis whispered into d’Artagnan’s ear when his head was poised inches from Anne’s sex. “If you do that, you can’t go wrong.” 

Sadly, the next few minutes proved what could go wrong when you did not listen. D’Artagnan lapped and lapped from bottom to top of Anne’s opening, pausing to push his tongue in a most awkward manner on her clit, before repeating the pattern. Throughout, Anne squirmed about, and d’Artagnan must have read it for pleasure as opposed to an attempt to find her pleasure through her own means on his tongue and face. Aramis tried to coach him, encouraging him to slow down, but d’Artagnan simply did not seem talented in this particular area. 

Yes, it was something of a pity for Constance, but Aramis would make certain d’Artagnan could make his wife scream with ecstasy before the night ended. 

“Oh, d’Artagnan, move over,” Constance said. 

D’Artagnan and Aramis both looked over at Constance, a bit in shock, but d’Artagnan dutifully crawled to Anne’s other side with Aramis to make room for Constance between Anne’s legs. Once she was there, Constance grinned up at Anne in a manner even Aramis considered obscene, before diving in. 

Constance, bless her, proved a magnificent student. She did precisely what Aramis had suggested—kissing the area to get Anne excited again, then licking and gently sucking around the opening, before finally going for the clit. Being such an advanced student, Aramis thought for a moment of explaining to Constance what a few well-placed fingers might do, but he knew that look on Anne’s face, when her eyes rolled back in her head and she clutched the sheets as though they were a lifeline. 

Instead, Aramis spooned himself behind d’Artagnan and pulled their bodies snugly together. “There are so many other variations to consider,” he whispered in d’Artagnan’s ear, stroking his nipples and wondering if d’Artagnan would like them pinched. “Some women love to hold a man’s hair and guide him.” He hadn’t thought he was speaking loudly, but Aramis guessed Constance’s moan was in response to his words and not what she was doing to Anne. He continued, “And some women like a finger or two inside them. Have you found that spot inside her?” 

“Yes,” d’Artagnan moaned as Aramis ran his hand down the other man’s stomach and pulled him closer. 

“That combination can be irresistible to some women,” Aramis explained. He thought of going on, but Anne lifted off the bed and moaned so loudly, Aramis was especially pleased the innkeeper and his wife were on another floor at the other end of the building. “Constance, suck her clit.” 

Constance did as told, and Anne’s orgasm immediately began. She pounded her fists into the mattress, bucked her hips up and down, and screamed in the back of her throat. Yet throughout, Constance sucked—her head following Anne’s gyrations up and down, until complete. 

Constance stayed with Anne until she entirely finished. Aramis hummed happily against d’Artagnan’s neck as his hand slid down and wrapped around d’Artagnan’s cock. Watching these two astonishing women had made him want d’Artagnan so badly. Judging by his leaking cock and throaty growl, d’Artagnan felt much the same. 

“What are you two doing?” Constance asked, her cheek resting on Anne’s stomach, their hands entwined together. Her smiling lips covered in Anne made Aramis’s cock throb. And the way d’Artagnan’s jerked in Aramis’s hand, he must have agreed. 

“Not yet,” Aramis whispered in d’Artagnan’s ear, and moving his hand down to grip d’Artagnan’s base and balls a little too hard to be erotic. D’Artagnan growled unhappily and Aramis stroked his hip. “We were simply admiring,” Aramis said to Constance. “And I think that as a reward for your excellent work, you should get to choose what we do next. Do you want satisfied in the same way? A different way? Or would you like to watch something?” 

Considering how bold Constance had been up to this point, Aramis was surprised when she averted her eyes and blushed. “Constance,” Aramis assured her, “you can request anything. There are no judgments here.” 

“Yes, please, Constance,” Anne said, stroking Constance’s hair with her free hand. “You deserve your heart’s desire.” 

“But what if none of you want to do it?” asked Constance, hiding her face against Anne’s stomach. 

“I can’t imagine that we wouldn’t,” d’Artagnan said. “But we’ll never know until you ask.” He petted his wife’s cheek. “Please, Constance. I want to know what it is that you want.” 

She peeked up at him. “No matter what I say I’d like, you promise you won’t be mad or think I’m a pervert.” 

“Of course not.” 

“Some of my closest friends are perverts,” Aramis added with a grin over d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “What can we do for you, Constance?” 

“I want you to…well, I know theoretically that men can…together. And I guess I want to see the two of you. Together.” 

Aramis’s hips started grinding into d’Artagnan of their own volition. “Oh, yes, Constance. Not only is it possible, but it can be beautiful.” D’Artagnan let out a soft moan of agreement to the plan, and Aramis planted a kiss behind his ear. “The only other question, Constance, is do you want to watch me fuck d’Artagnan, or d’Artagnan fuck me?” 

“I….” Constance buried her face again. “D’Artagnan, what do you want?” 

“Oh, d’Artagnan, say you want Aramis to fuck you,” Anne blurted out before she broke into a fit of giggling. “I am so sorry. It is, of course, a decision for the rest of you to make, but Aramis is so remarkable when he’s in control, and well, I think you would rather enjoy it.” 

D’Artagnan pushed back against Aramis’s cock. “I think you’re right. Constance, does that sound good to you?” 

“It sounds wonderful,” she answered. 

Aramis stroked d’Artagnan’s abdomen, but made certain not to brush his cock. “Now that we have that settled, would the two of you like to lie back and enjoy the show, or do you want to help me?” 

“Oh, I want to appreciate the sight of this,” Constance said, wiggling over to kiss her husband. 

“I would like to be of use,” said Anne, “if you don’t think I would be in the way.” 

“You could never be in the way.” Aramis reached out and brushed Anne’s arm. “Would you like to get d’Artagnan ready for me?” 

“Ready?” Anne asked. Her face looked a bit hesitant yet, but she sat up attentively. Aramis smiled to reassure her, well knowing that she often worried about trying new things in the bedroom, but in the end always found herself happy that she had done something new. 

“Unlike you ladies, who have the aid of nature to prepare the way, men need a bit of external help. Well, women do as well in the same situation, but the pertinent fact is that I need the jar of oil from my bag and your delicate fingers, Anne.” 

“I’ll get it,” Constance offered, rolling out of bed. Aramis was glad that she did, because Anne finally seemed to understand what she had volunteered for. She went pale and a touch wide-eyed. 

Aramis whispered, even though everyone could hear in the small room. “Anne, it will feel remarkable for d’Artagnan. You want to make him feel good, don’t you?” 

“But, my fingers, there?” 

Unable to see his face, Aramis had only the pressure of his body against d’Artagnan to judge his mood. So when he stiffened, Aramis kissed his hair and held his hand firmly above d’Artagnan’s heart. “I can’t just press in the way I can with you. He needs slowly loosened, and a great deal of oil. But the actual loosening and oil, it’s in many ways for the man in d’Artagnan’s place the best part. It feels truly amazing.” 

Anne quirked an eyebrow. “And I would be able to do this for you, even if we were not with another man who was going to then take you?” 

“If you would be so kind, then yes, Anne, you could most certainly please me in this way.” 

She propped herself on hands and knees to scurry over and kiss him hard. “Then show me how,” she said with a breathless smile when they pulled apart. 

By this time Constance had returned with the jar of oil, so Aramis began positioning everyone. He placed d’Artagnan where Anne had been, but took one of the pillows to slide under his hips. Anne he placed between d’Artagnan’s bent legs. Finally, he returned to where he had been before, but now he curled himself up against Constance’s back. 

“If at any point it hurts more than it feels good, you must say so, d’Artagnan,” Aramis said. 

D’Artagnan nodded, then said to Anne. “And if at any point you change your mind, you must stop. No one will enjoy anything if we think you’re unhappy.” 

Anne crawled up d’Artagnan’s body and rested atop him while she gave him a slow, sloppy kiss. “I want to do this,” she said into his mouth. “The very thought of helping Aramis have you makes me want to die a little again.” 

D’Artagnan smiled and brushed a hand through her hair while giving her another kiss. Aramis guessed Constance was grinning—he certainly was—and he buried his face in her hair. “Are you ready to see your husband get fucked by your queen?” 

“When you put it like that, I can’t believe I didn’t know sooner how much I wanted this.” 

Anne slid back down d’Artagnan’s body and rested on her heels. “What do I do?” 

“Constance,” Aramis said with a kiss to the back of her head. “Dribble some of that oil on the middle three fingers of Anne’s right hand. You do feel most comfortable using your right, yes?” 

Anne eagerly thrust her right hand out to Constance, who applied a little oil to Anne’s fingers. “A bit more,” Aramis said. “This is not a time to stint.” And so Constance poured some more out until the oil dripped off Anne’s fingers. “Perfect. Now, Anne, I want you to touch d’Artagnan’s entrance. Just the outside. Circle around lightly.” 

Anne took a deep breath, and her hand vanished from Aramis’s view between d’Artagnan’s legs. At first, he only blinked faster, but then his breath also quickened, and before he realized it, Aramis would guess, d’Artagnan was whimpering softly. “He likes it,” Aramis whispered, his lips pressed against Constance’s ear. 

“He really does. But how does this get him ready for you?” 

“Oh, it doesn’t, really. But we like for d’Artagnan to enjoy himself, don’t we?” 

And as if taking that as a signal for action, d’Artagnan let out a loud, open-mouthed grown. “Oh, God, Aramis,” d’Artagnan said. “I thought you told her to stay outside.” 

“Anne?” Aramis questioned. 

In response, Anne giggled. “I am so terribly sorry. I cannot imagine how that one slipped in.” 

“Do it again,” d’Artagnan begged. “Please, do it again.” 

Decidedly more serious now, Anne studied d’Artagnan’s face while her hand moved. In actuality, they all were watching d’Artagnan now as he bit his lower lip and growled with pleasure. 

“Does that feel good?” Anne asked, her tone half teasing, half serious. 

“Amazing,” d’Artagnan grunted through a tight jaw. 

“Aramis,” Anne asked. “What should I do now?” 

“Do you have one finger in?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you thrusting it slowly in and out?” 

“More or less. I wasn’t sure if that was right.” 

“That is perfect. And I think d’Artagnan would agree.” 

“Yes,” d’Artagnan moaned. “Oh, Aramis, it feels like nothing else.” 

“It’s going to feel even better in a minute,” Aramis said, and he couldn’t help a grin. “Anne, why don’t you add another finger?” 

“Will that be alright?” she asked. “He is very tight, and I do not wish to hurt him.” 

“You’re such a thoughtful woman. But the fact he is tight is precisely what you need to change. Adding another finger helps that.” 

Anne nodded, and based on d’Artagnan’s gasp, added a second finger. 

“Oh. Oh, God. It’s too much,” d’Artagnan said with his head thrown back on the pillows. 

“Do you need me to stop?” Anne asked, stilling her hand. 

“God, no. Anything but that. More, Anne. Please. More.” 

And she gave d’Artagnan what he asked for. He could no longer remain still, his hips pushing against her hand. His svelte, dark body writhed in the lamplight, glistening with sweat, and Aramis could think of few more beautiful sights he had ever witnessed. Then again had he not just thought the same when he had seen Constance between Anne’s legs? He was blessed to have so many lovely people in his life who were all willing to share themselves and their love with each other. 

“Are you enjoying this, Constance?” he asked. 

Before answering, she grabbed one of his hands and brought it up to her breast. He had to give it a good squeeze before she was willing to talk. “He’s always been the most handsome man in the world to me, but right now…. Aramis, I never knew he could be even more beautiful.” 

“Watch this,” he whispered in her ear before saying more loudly for everyone, “Anne, curl your fingers toward yourself, like you’re trying to hook something.” 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“Keep moving. Feel for something flat, a bit different in texture. It should—” 

Aramis’s explanation was cut short by d’Artagnan’s howl of pleasure. “Ah,” Aramis said. “You found it.” 

“That’s amazing!” Constance said. “Does it feel like that for women, too?” 

“There’s no equivalent on a woman there, but that’s much like there is no equivalent for a man here.” Aramis slid his hand down her body and lightly fingered her clit. She shuddered, and he moved his hand back up onto her stomach. He wanted her to see what Anne was doing to d’Artagnan without distraction. 

“But it would feel good if someone did this to me?” Anne asked, staring at the way d’Artagnan’s cock leaked on his stomach. 

“It would feel quite wonderful,” Aramis answered. 

“Then I’ll do it,” Constance said, pulling out Aramis’s arms and moving behind Anne. 

So much for allowing her to watch d’Artagnan undistracted. But the potential beauty of this particular proposal was far too much for him to argue against. “The oil,” Aramis reminded her, passing the jar. 

“Aramis,” moaned d’Artagnan. “I don’t think I can stand this any longer.” 

“Anne, why don’t you go ahead and put your third finger in,” Aramis said, taking the oil back from Constance. “Here, let me add a little more oil.” He moved to Anne’s side, kissing her cheek, before spilling some more oil on her hand and d’Artagnan’s gorgeous behind. 

Anne turned her face to kiss Aramis on the mouth and then plunged in another finger. 

D’Artagnan roared in pleasure once more, but his sounds were quickly drowned out by Anne’s. She faltered for a moment with Constance only just starting at the outside of her entrance. “Constance!” she moaned, changing the angle of her hips where she knelt between d’Artagnan’s legs in hopes of allowing Constance better access. 

“Don’t forget d’Artagnan in your own pleasure,” Aramis whispered in her ear. “Look how close he is. He wants to come for you. He wants to show you how much you have meant to him. Don’t you, d’Artagnan? You want to come from her fingers inside you.” 

“Yes. More than anything. Yes!” 

“Put your left hand on his knee for leverage. And then in and out. In and out. Yes, create a rhythm. Try and rub that spot again.” 

Once more, Anne proved successful, so Aramis nodded to Constance. She needed no more instruction to begin sliding her finger into Anne. Yet another success, to judge by the moan emanating from Anne. 

Aramis knew it was nearly his moment. He opened the bottle of oil once more and coated his cock, barely able to touch himself, he was already so close. In fact, when he saw d’Artagnan’s ecstatic face, he had to look away. “Once more, Anne,” Aramis told her. “Once more and he will spill for you.” 

Her eyes were closed, her breath ragged from her own pleasure, but she did as he suggested. D’Artagnan let out one more yell, and his cock spasmed, and he was coming all over his stomach. As much as he feared what it might do to him, Aramis couldn’t turn away. “Look, Anne. Constance, look how beautiful!” 

Anne moaned and Constance growled with satisfaction. D’Artagnan looked nowhere, except at the back of his head, where his eyes had rolled. He came for a long time, his spend shooting up, even to his chest, and all the while Anne worked him as Constance worked her. When he finally finished, Aramis licked Anne’s ear and said, “May I?” 

Anne turned her face toward him, but her eyes didn’t focus. “What?” 

“Constance,” Aramis said, “If you still want me to fuck your husband, you’ll have to stop doing that for a minute so Anne can move.” 

Constance yanked her hand back and Anne whimpered. But Constance leaned up and kissed her, short but fierce. “I do. Anne, just come away for a minute. I know you want to see this, too.” 

“Oh, yes. Of course. Aramis, please.” 

Anne jumped out to the right side of the bed, while Constance was coming up on Aramis’s left. He almost suggested they watch together, but it might be best for them to be separated so that they would be less distracted. Aramis leaned down and kissed d’Artagnan, who still seemed dazed from his orgasm and lost without Anne’s fingers. “Remember,” Aramis said, “tell me if you’re in pain.” 

“You’re beautiful, Aramis,” d’Artagnan answered, and they kissed again. 

Aramis sat back up so he could find his angle into d’Artagnan. While kissing him, Aramis had managed to get some of d’Artagnan’s cum on his stomach. He smiled. “You’re a mess. A glorious mess. And I suppose I am now, as well.” 

“Only a man would call a mess ‘glorious,’” said Constance. “Let me clean that up.” And with that, she leaned her face over d’Artagnan and began licking the cum from his torso. 

Aramis smiled and lined himself up; he needed to be inside d’Artagnan more than ever. He had barely breached d’Artagnan, and only just begun to revel in his moans, when Anne scraped a finger across his stomach. “I can’t have you messy, either,” she said, sticking her finger in her mouth to suck away the cum. 

Aramis couldn’t control himself any longer. He hadn’t felt so overwhelmed and unhinged since he was a teenager, fumbling for the first time with girls in haystacks and boys in the school dormitory. He pushed full into d’Artagnan with a yelp of delight. D’Artagnan was perfect—tight around him, but loose enough that Aramis knew he could fuck him without worries of hurting him. But he couldn’t get a good rhythm going right away with Anne now leaning over and licking him entirely clean. Thankfully, he was not too covered, and Anne finished quickly, giving both his nipples nips with her teeth on her way back. 

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis said, unable to think of anything else to say. He grabbed d’Artagnan’s hips and began to thrust. D’Artagnan immediately rose to meet him, pushing back for all his worth. As Aramis watched his beautiful panting face over Constance’s head, either still licking up cum or just licking, Aramis thought of the first time he had met d’Artagnan, and he knew what to say. “I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since the day you showed up at the garrison wanting to kill Athos.” 

D’Artagnan laughed and groaned simultaneously. “I think if I’d really understood anything at all, I would have wanted the same for as long.” 

“Constance,” Aramis said. Without having to say any more or explain what he needed, Constance pulled away. There was now nothing and no one between him and d’Artagnan. His thrusting became furious. His head lolled on his chest, because the sensation was too overwhelming for him to hold it up. All he could do was grunt and thrust and grip his fingertips deeper into d’Artagnan’s glorious hips. 

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis whispered so softly even he could not be certain he had said it. And then he came. A rush of heat and wet. His eyes would not focus, so he closed them so he did not become even more woozy than he already was. He knew nothing except for the tactile warmth of the body beneath him. He heard nothing until his own screams registered in his ears. 

When he finished, he collapsed on d’Artagnan, awkwardly placing kisses on his chest, fighting to breathe again. D’Artagnan’s fingers found their way into Aramis’s hair, and it felt glorious to Aramis, this little gesture of comfort. He sighed loudly, feeling as content as he ever had in his life. 

“You were right, Anne,” d’Artagnan said, still stroking Aramis’s hair with one hand and pulling him into an embrace with the other. “He’s an amazing lover. I feel privileged.” 

Aramis only managed a happy moan while he rubbed his cheek on d’Artagnan’s chest. 

But Anne answered, and from the sound of her voice, from the corner of the room where their baggage was stacked. “Indeed he is. I once told him any woman would be fortunate to be loved by him. It seems I was too limiting and should have said, ‘any person.’”

“You are both gorgeous,” Aramis mumbled into d’Artagnan’s chest. “Constance, as well.” He reached out a hand across the bed and Constance grabbed it. 

He lay there, content, not wishing to move off or out of d’Artagnan. But he heard a splash behind him and he thought he knew what Anne had been doing in their gear. She was right, of course, but that did not mean he was any more eager to give up so ideal a position. “Are you uncomfortable, d’Artagnan?” 

D’Artagnan massaged his fingertips into Aramis’s scalp. “Not a bit. I’m dreading the moment you pull out of me and take your weight away. What are the chances I could convince you to literally sleep on top of me?” 

“Mmm. I would be entirely in favor of such an arrangement.” 

“Men are so clingy,” Constance said. Aramis opened his eyes to appreciate her lovely smile. 

“And, we find once again, content to be messy,” Anne said, crawling back onto the bed behind him. “Here, Constance.” 

Anne had taken one of the cloths Constance carried for the sake of her majesty’s hygiene and damped it in the basin on the bedside table. It was now passed over Aramis’s shoulder to Constance. He watched her clean her fingers meticulously, but dreaded the moment sure to come next. “Come now,” Anne prodded his back. “I got everyone a cloth to clean up.” 

“I think Aramis and I are content to be a bit dirty,” d’Artagnan answered, gripping Aramis’s hair almost possessively now. 

“The two of you can be filthy all you like when you’re away on missions without us,” Constance said. “For now, clean.” 

“That is a good point,” said Aramis before kissing d’Artagnan’s chest. “When we are forced by duty to leave you beautiful ladies, there is no reason why we cannot keep one another company. Just as you two will be able to look after each other in our absence.” 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Anne said. When Aramis turned his head to look at her, she positively beamed. 

“But we are not gone yet,” Aramis said, with another quick kiss to d’Artagnan’s chest. “And you, d’Artagnan, still have your wife to please.” 

D’Artagnan’s eyes looked like those of a sad puppy, and he frowned. “Yes. I do.” 

Aramis could not contain a smile, even though his mirth did rather come at d’Artagnan’s expense. “Do not worry. I have a suggestion.” With a final, somewhat sorrowful kiss to d’Artagnan’s right nipple, Aramis shifted and slowly pulled out of d’Artagnan. The poor boy whimpered, so Aramis kissed his stomach. “Anne, may I?” He held out his hand and Anne passed him a damp cloth. He set to work cleaning off d’Artagnan—his stomach, his chest, his bottom. “It might be a bit too soon for you to please her in the most traditional way,” he explained, looking at d’Artagnan’s half-hard cock. “And your oral techniques require practice, which I have no doubt you will work hard on. But for tonight, why don’t you simply use those long, dexterous fingers of yours.” 

“Can I finish her like that regularly?” d’Artagnan asked, sitting up and taking a fresh cloth from Anne to clean Aramis. “Obviously, I touch her there, but any time she has finished like that, it almost seemed like an accident.” 

Aramis moaned happily under d’Artagnan’s ministrations as he wiped his cock clean. “You have a remarkably light touch when you want to use it,” he said with a hum. “Essentially, just do with your fingers what I suggested you do with your tongue earlier. Get her excited and then find her clit and rub it the way her reaction dictates. If you want, you can put a finger or two inside her, rub that special place. Or even put a little oil on your fingers and go for her other entrance with one hand while you stay on her clit with the other hand.” 

“D’Artagnan, please get over here and touch me immediately,” Constance said. “Anne can finish cleaning him up.” 

Aramis took the cloth and slid from between d’Artagnan’s legs as swiftly as he could manage. For a moment, he thought of helping d’Artagnan with Constance. He felt it was vital for the happiness of their marriage that d’Artagnan manage proper care and handling of Constance’s clit. But what would it hurt if he slid his own fingers into Constance so d’Artagnan could focus? However, when he saw them embrace, entwining themselves completely with one another as they kissed, Aramis realized he did not belong in this particular moment, at least not as an active participant. Instead, he handed Anne the cloth and stretched out on his side, Anne behind him, d’Artagnan and Constance in front. Anne reached around him, running the cloth against his already clean skin, but it felt so lovely, his every sense still heightened, he could not tell her to stop. 

D’Artagnan rolled Constance onto her back, next to Aramis, and reached between her legs. The smooth way his hand moved left Aramis in no doubt as to how wet and ready she was for this. Constance hummed contentedly, and Aramis thought of a few tips he might suggest, but then Constance’s hips wiggled in a most delightful fashion, and he assumed d’Artagnan was doing well enough without him. 

“They are lovely,” Anne whispered in his ear, and then she kissed it for good measure. 

D’Artagnan kissed Constance’s neck, and she moaned. Aramis smiled. “Do you think they need our help?” 

Constance gasped, “No. No, we do not. My God, d’Artagnan. That’s perfect. Right there.” 

“Should I get the oil and try—” d’Artagnan started to say, but he was cut off by Constance’s growl. 

“No. Right there.” 

D’Artagnan dutifully concentrated his efforts on the precise point on Constance’s clit he had located, and he was greatly rewarded. In less than a minute, Constance was whining and curling in on herself. She turned to face d’Artagnan, and he diligently kept his fingers in their magical place, even as she moved. A moment later, Constance was screaming into her husband’s shoulder and gripping his back so tightly that Aramis would not be surprised if she bruised him. D’Artagnan, smart boy, without being told, continued to do exactly what he was doing when Constance first began to scream, perhaps only now he held her even more ardently with his free arm. Constance screamed and clawed and writhed some more, until finally she slapped d’Artagnan’s hand away and lay there twitching in his arms, both of which he now wrapped around her. 

“Are you happy?” d’Artagnan asked, with a kiss to the top of Constance’s head. 

“Am I happy?” she panted out in return. She twitched again and laughed. “If I were any happier, I’d be unconscious.” 

D’Artagnan squeezed her tighter, and Anne did the same to Aramis, now getting rid of the cloth. Aramis nestled back into her and raised one of her hands to his lips. “I think it is safe to say this has been a successful night,” Aramis said. 

“Has been?” Anne questioned. “I do not see that we need to consider it over yet.” 

Constance uncurled herself from d’Artagnan so she could look at Anne. “What did you have in mind?” 

Anne clapped her hands together before scurrying over Aramis to kneel between him and Constance. “Well, I was thinking this time I could do for you what you did for me.” She grabbed Constance’s hand. “And d’Artagnan could take me the way Aramis took him. I mean, there’s no reason d’Artagnan could not put it there, is there?” 

The question was put to Aramis, and he could only smile. “No reason at all. If you would like, I would be happy to prepare you for him.” 

“Excellent!” Anne bounced with excitement. “And Constance had been telling me what she does to d’Artagnan with her mouth.” 

“Oh, I’d love to get my mouth on Aramis,” Constance said, reaching out to brush her fingertips across Aramis’s shoulder. 

“Perfect! Where shall we start?”


End file.
